Mint Juleps, Mayhem, and Murder Page 3

  We entered the waiting room, which had been taken over by the Avery family. There were three other people who weren’t relatives gathered in one corner and they looked slightly bewildered at the Avery throng dominating the room. I knew exactly how they felt. The Avery family could be a bit…overwhelming. Aunt Gwen and Uncle Kenny were playing gin rummy in one corner, Mitch’s dad paced back and forth in front of the windows, and Uncle Bud’s voice carried to the door as he and Aunt Christine talked about a property renovation he was doing. Two of Mitch’s cousins were resolutely flicking through magazines and there were a few more relatives milling around a coffeepot. The atmosphere was one of determined chitchat.

  “I don’t see Aunt Jenny,” I said.

  “Me either. I’ll see if Dad’s heard anything.”

  I squeezed Mitch’s arm and went to sit beside Aunt Christine since Uncle Bud had vacated his chair and moved over to the group around the coffeepot. “Any news?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Aunt Christine said, nervously running her hand over the stitching on the arm of the chair. She shifted and looked at the door. “They came for Jenny a few minutes ago. We should know something soon.” She went back to rubbing the armrest. “He’s their only child, you know.”

  “I know,” I said and forced down the surge of anxiety that bubbled up inside me. “How about a cup of coffee?” I stood.

  “No caffeine for me, dear, but thank you. High blood pressure. The doctor told me to cut that out of my diet and I’m sure my blood pressure is already up now.”

  “Well, how about some water? There’s got to be a vending machine around here somewhere.”

  “That would be nice.” I had a feeling she didn’t care about the water but knew I wanted something to do besides sit in a waiting room.

  I nearly collided with Aunt Jenny in the doorway. “He’s going to be fine!” she shouted and relief swept through the room like a fresh breeze. Suddenly everyone was standing, talking, hugging. “It was sunstroke,” Aunt Jenny announced over the chatter. “Very serious, but they got him here quickly enough that he’s going to be fine.” She gripped my hand. “We have to thank your neighbors, if they hadn’t seen him—” She swallowed and wasn’t able to continue.

  I squeezed her hand. “But they did.”

  She drew in a deep breath, regained control, and nodded. “They want to keep him overnight, but he’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m so glad.” I caught Mitch’s gaze and we smiled across the room. He looked more like his old self again, relaxed and happy.

  I slipped out the door and found a vending machine on another floor. Aunt Christine had probably forgotten about the water, but I sure could use some now. I was on my way back, balancing several ice cold bottles of water, when I caught sight of a silhouette I recognized, curly dark hair and curvy figure. “Abby,” I called. How could I have forgotten about her call? The scare with Dan had wiped everything else from my mind.

  I hurried down the hall to catch her before she turned a corner. “Abby,” I called again, and this time she turned toward me. She looked dazed and stared at me a moment before she said anything. “It was sweet of you to come, but you can’t talk to Denise now,” she said in a monotone, like she was repeating words she knew she should say. There wasn’t any emotion, any warmth connected with them.

  “How’s Colonel Pershall?”

  “He didn’t make it.”

  I was so shocked, I couldn’t form any words. It couldn’t be true. The burly, strong man I knew couldn’t be gone, just like that. We stepped to the side of the hall to let a group of people pass and Abby said, “I know. It’s unbelievable. I’ve been wandering around, waiting for her to get finished with the police.”

  “The police?” I asked, leaning against the wall.

  “Yes. It’s a murder investigation now.”

  I could barely get my mind around the fact that he’d died. I noticed condensation was forming on the chilled water bottles and soaking into my already drenched shirt. I set them down on a small table and brushed at my shirt distractedly. “Who would do something like that? Everyone liked him.”

  “Well, not everyone. He made some people mad in the squadron. You know, Henry was pretty upset that he didn’t get that class.”

  “But that’s nothing. People get passed over all the time.”

  “I know, that’s only an example. I’m just saying Colonel Pershall didn’t play the game and some people didn’t like it.” Abby rubbed her forehead. “Maybe it was some random crazy person.”

  I frowned. “If I were bent on random violence, I don’t think I’d pick him. He was so large and sturdy.”

  “That’s probably true. I’m sure that fresh-faced detective in there will put everything he has into it. It’s probably his first case.”

  “Was it Detective Waraday?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “It’s not his first case. He investigated Jodi’s disappearance.” I’d met the detective over a year ago when heavy rains washed out an abandoned graveyard near our subdivision and revealed a collapsed casket with two sets of human remains. “But aren’t the security police from the base involved?” I asked. “You said something about them.”

  “They came to notify Denise. Colonel Pershall wasn’t on base when it happened. He was over at Five Pines.”

  The neighborhood golf course was in one of the housing developments scattered around North Dawkins. It wasn’t inside the city limits, so the case fell into the jurisdiction of the sheriff’s office. “The security police came to Denise’s house. They said the sheriff’s department had notified them.”

  “Yeah, they’ll probably work together on the case. I’d better get back to Mitch’s family.” I explained what had happened with Dan as I picked up the water bottles, feeling almost guilty that our situation had turned out so well. We walked to the elevator and Abby pushed the button.

  “When Denise is through talking to the police, I guess I’ll take her home and wait for her sister to get here. She’s driving up from Tampa.”

  As the doors opened and Abby stepped inside, I said, “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Sure. And I’ll tell Denise you were here.”

  The doors slid closed and I continued down the hall. I had to tell Mitch. He’d be devastated.

  He met me in the hall with his phone in one hand. The strained look was back on his face. “I just got a call from Jeff,” he said, then took in my face. “You know?”

  I nodded and wrapped my arms around him, sweaty water bottles and all. “I’m so sorry, Mitch. I saw Abby in the hall and she told me.”

  He squeezed me close and we didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Then the hall filled with people swirling around us. Uncle Kenny slapped Mitch on the back and said, “Come on, let’s get back to your house. I’ve got a croquet game to win.” Absorbed into the current of Avery relatives, we were swept out of the hospital and back to our house.

  I yanked a croquet wicket from the ground and shook off the mud and grass clinging to it before placing it back in the storage case.

  After the scare with Dan yesterday, everyone had returned to our house and finished off the desserts. As he predicted, Uncle Kenny won the croquet game, but I think it was because no one took it quite as seriously as he did. Well, except for Aunt Gwen. She came in second. Later, the women helped me clean up the kitchen and wash the serving dishes while the men cleaned grills and loaded picnic tables and chairs in pickups. By sundown the reunion had broken up. Some people had to drive back home that night to teach Sunday school the next morning. Others, including Mitch’s parents, had left this morning after breakfast. After Dan had spent the night at the hospital, Felicity and Aunt Jenny had checked him out and headed back to Alabama. We’d said good-bye to them at the hospital.

  So the reunion was over and all my planning and worrying over picnic tables and grills and paper plates seemed so insignificant in comparison to what Denise was going through now. I co
uldn’t stop worrying about her. Maybe it was because of the scare with Dan and the visit to the hospital. It made the trauma more real to me.

  The drama with the bullet in the siding added to my anxiety. Larry had relayed the information to us that the sheriff’s department had removed the bullet from the siding and they didn’t need to speak to us now. Larry said they thought a misguided hunter had accidentally strayed out of the wildlife area. When Mitch passed that news on to me, I’d looked at him in disbelief. He’d said, “It happens. The thrill of the hunt and all that.”

  “But I thought people used tree stands around here,” I said.

  “They do, but some people track their game, too.”

  I wiggled the striped croquet pole out of the ground and placed it in the case. Livvy had convinced Kenny to leave the croquet set out yesterday. This afternoon, I’d found Livvy and Nathan swinging mallets around within inches of each other’s heads. I’d relocated them to the swing set where they split their time between arguing over the swings and tossing sand out of the sandbox.

  “Mom, Rex is in the pool again,” Livvy yelled.

  I turned to see Rex standing in the middle of the kiddie pool. I sighed. Really, I couldn’t blame him. It was terribly hot and he did have a fur coat, but I really didn’t want the dog and the kids swimming in the same pool. I shooed him out and he shook, flinging drops of water that made the kids squeal. He settled down on the grass, looking for all the world like he was grinning at his own cleverness.

  As I carried the croquet set to the storage shed at the back of the yard, Mitch came in right behind me, carefully maneuvering the long pole of the extension trimmer through the door. He’d been trimming low-hanging branches, one of his favorite activities. I glanced out the door of the storage shed through the open gate to the front yard. I was relieved to see the trees still had branches on them. Mitch tended to get carried away when he was trimming and he’d reduced some bushes to mere stumps. Limbs were stacked neatly at the curb, and leaves and twigs littered the driveway.

  “Did it feel a little awkward to you at the hospital today?” I asked as I zipped the cover over the croquet set.

  Mitch picked up the leaf blower and an extension cord. “Awkward? You mean they all couldn’t wait to get out of here?”

  I half-shrugged. “No, I can understand that. Who wants to linger at a hospital? I doubt any of them will remember this reunion fondly. Did you get a weird vibe between Dan and Felicity?”

  “Not really,” Mitch said as he turned away to plug in the extension cord at the wall outlet.

  “Yesterday in the street, when she realized he was hurt, she looked so shocked and worried, but today she seemed to be mad at him…well, not mad, but there was a definite coolness between them.”

  “Felicity’s always been that way. She can hold a grudge forever. She was mad at me for weeks after that fender bender in the high school parking lot,” Mitch said. “She’s still upset about the triathlon thing. Just because he almost died is no reason for her to let up on him. At least, that’s the way she’d see it.”

  I shoved the croquet set onto the storage shelves and turned to him. “High school? You knew her?”

  “Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” Mitch asked, looking genuinely puzzled. “I’ve known her for years.”

  “And you didn’t mention this before now?”

  Mitch braced the blower against his hip. His voice had a distinctly choppy, irritated tone as he said, “Well, no. I didn’t think it mattered. It was a small town. Everyone knew everyone else. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll tell you now that I took her to get ice cream once back during our sophomore year, but then I crushed the fender of her brand new Accord on a rainy morning and she was so mad at me that she started flirting with Dan. They’ve been fighting ever since.” Mitch picked up the rolled extension cord and pointed it at me as he said, “So that’s how I know she can hold a grudge.” He strode out of the storage shed, unfurling the extension cord.

  I realized my mouth was open and closed it. Wow. I hadn’t expected that at all.

  A popping sound came from outside the storage shed and I headed for the door, glancing out the window into the backyard. The kids were in the sandbox, looking around. Apparently, they’d heard it, too, and they were fine.

  I reached the open door and saw Mitch pacing back and forth across the driveway, alternately clasping one hand in the other, then shaking it out. The blower was on the driveway. The aroma of hot plastic and a whiff of smoke wafted toward me. “Mitch, what happened?”

  He examined the palm of his hand as he said, “It short-circuited.”

  “Are you okay?” His thumb and part of his palm were red, but not blistered.

  “I’ll be all right,” he said as he strode into the storage shed and used his other hand to disconnect the plug from the outlet. “Looks like we need a new blower.”

  “Try not to look so delighted,” I said. For Mitch, any excuse was a good excuse to visit the huge home improvement store. I wasn’t a big fan of shopping myself and didn’t understand the lure of a store that stocked plumbing supplies and lumber, but Mitch could spend hours in one.

  Faintly, I heard the sounds of the song, “Who Let the Dogs Out?”

  I saw my cell phone, the display bright, where I’d left it on a small table on the patio. I leveled my gaze at Mitch. “Very funny. What if I’d been with an organizing client? That sound wouldn’t be professional, would it?”

  Mitch had changed the ringtone on my cell phone last week from a plain vanilla ring, which I preferred, to a pitiful elevator music impersonation of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” He thought the gag was hilarious, especially since Nathan kept saying, “Make it sing again, Mom,” during my entire conversation.

  “Sometimes things aren’t so funny the second time around,” I said.

  “Oh, come on. It’s kind of appropriate, don’t you think? One of us is always asking if Rex is outside,” Mitch said.

  “I’d better get it.” I left Mitch whistling the tune as he turned on the water hose to douse his hand. “Two can play at that game,” I muttered under my breath as I sprinted across the lawn and caught the phone before it went to voice mail.

  It was Denise. “Ellie, I think I need…well, I don’t really know how to put this. Can you come over?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Four

  I parked on the street in front of the rancher in base housing with the nameplate that read, LIEUTENANT COLONEL AND MRS. PERSHALL. Lieutenant Colonel had been his full title, but people with that rank were usually referred to as just “colonel” in conversation. I hurried up the sidewalk, thinking about Denise. On the phone she’d sounded rattled and almost frail, which was so different from her usual confident demeanor.

  She opened the door with a spray bottle of cleaning solution in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Ellie, thanks so much for coming.” She looked drawn and tired. A large, black T-shirt with the squadron’s emblem engulfed her down to her jean-clad knees. I recognized the shirt. Mitch had several like it and wore them under his flight suit. Denise was a tall, statuesque woman, but the shirt swallowed her. Colonel Pershall had been a big man. Just looking at the shirt hanging loosely on Denise made me sad.

  “Sure. I’m glad you called me. I’m so sorry.” I gave her a hug. The words didn’t seem like enough, but she hardly seemed to hear them.

  She wasn’t wearing her contacts. Instead, she had on an outdated pair of glasses with huge lenses and circular red frames. Her short hair, normally smoothed across her forehead and tucked behind her ears, was pulled straight back with two haphazardly placed barrettes and was flat on one side and crinkling into frizz on the other.

  I handed her a rectangular pan. “It’s frozen lasagna.”

  “Thanks. Come on in,” she said as she led me through the small but comfortably furnished living room with chairs in warm reds and browns. One of the throws she’d knitted was tossed over the arm of the squashy le
ather couch. The vacuum stood in one corner, its cord still connected to the outlet and the smell of lemon furniture polish hung in the air. “Let’s go back to the kitchen. One more cabinet and I’m done in there.” Colonel Pershall and Denise didn’t have children and the house seemed extremely quiet to me compared to the constant background noise of toys, kids’ television shows, and the never-ending high-pitched query of “Mom?” that filled our house.

  A small galley kitchen ran along the front of the house. The sink overlooked the front yard and there was a door to the carport at the far end of the kitchen. With white cabinets, white tile floors, and white Formica countertops, the kitchen could have felt sterile, but Denise had added splashes of red, including a red and chrome dinette set, red canisters, and red and white gingham curtains. She put the spray bottle down, placed the lasagna in the freezer, then opened the fridge. “What can I get you to drink? Soda? Tea?”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  “You’ve got to have something. Everyone who comes over has to have something. We were hosting a party next weekend, so I’m stocked and I have to get rid of it. Wine spritzer? Flavored vitamin water? Plain water?” Her voice was as tense as those unbreakable wires that hold new toys in their boxes, the kind we can never seem to get open on Christmas morning. I noticed the flats of canned sodas and bottled water beside the door to the carport and said, “Sure, I’ll have a water. Plain is fine.” Poor thing. She couldn’t even open the refrigerator without being reminded of how her life had changed. “Did your sister make it to town?”

  “Yes, she’s at the store, getting more cleaning supplies.” Denise handed me a Fiji water bottle, opened one for herself, then picked up the spray bottle and doused one of the cabinets at the far end of the kitchen. “I’ll be finished in a minute,” she said as she waved me into a chair at the table. She attacked the cabinet with the paper towel, scrubbed it down, then moved on to the door that led to the carport. I hadn’t noticed until she sprayed the door frame, but it was covered with a fine black powder. The paper towels were smeared with black when she tossed them in the trash. “I had no idea fingerprint powder was so hard to clean up,” she said as she dropped into the chair across from me. “The house is coated in it. I haven’t even gotten to the upstairs yet.”